


Put the Needle on the Record

by poor_dumb_killian, Zengoalie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:52:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poor_dumb_killian/pseuds/poor_dumb_killian, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zengoalie/pseuds/Zengoalie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being convinced to join the University’s radio station, a bold Emma asks a bashful Killian to mentor her to be an on-air DJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put the Needle on the Record

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kjb2609](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kjb2609/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Kath!! This is a gift worked on by both Amy and KG (zengoalie and poor-dumb-killian on Tumblr), complete with a bashful Killian and stacks and stacks of music (who could ask for anything more, right?!)

Ruby had convinced her that having their own radio show on the campus station would be a blast. So now Emma found herself sitting in a lecture hall among several underclassmen who dreamed of careers in radio. Emma had signed the sheet up front when she’d first come in, filled in her name and email address. There were a decent amount of students interested, and she’d lined up behind the flannel clad, Chuck Taylor wearing hipsters.

Ruby, of course, was late. Emma had climbed the stairs to find a spot near the back. She scanned the front of the room, noting a couple of students who appeared to be trying to figure out who would run this ‘meeting.’ A tall severe looking girl looked to be in charge, and she stepped up to the middle of the dais just as Ruby traipsed into the room and signed her name to the sheet. She glanced up, located Emma and slid into the seat next to her. A few more stragglers entered the lecture hall and were forced to sit down front beneath the haughty glare of the girl who looked to be taking charge.

“Thank you all for showing interest in training at the station. I’m Regina, the General Manager.” she stepped up to the first row of students and handed out a pile of flyers.

“Take a copy of how to go about becoming a trainee. You’ll have to do a certain number of hours shadowing an on-air dj, and then take your FCC license test.”

Emma glanced over at Ruby. How was this going to be a fun thing? She didn’t realize there’d be a test involved. The door to the room cracked open and a late arrival crept into the room. Dark messy hair, black t-shirt, he made his way to one of the seats on the dais behind Regina. She turned and glared at him. He shrugged his shoulders and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed his ankles and raised an eyebrow at her to continue.

Ruby elbowed Emma, and whispered, “Hot guy alert.”

Regina glared over her shoulder and turned back to introduce the late comer. “This is our Music Director, Killian Jones.” He nodded at the room and went back to looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but in front of a room full of people.

Regina pointed back at a couple of other radio station volunteers seated behind her. “August Booth is Chief engineer, and Mary Margaret Blanchard is Chief Announcer.” The two gave a half-hearted wave at the gathered group of interested students. Regina went on to explain what the different officers responsibilities were at the station.

Emma couldn’t take her eyes off of Killian Jones. He fidgeted in his chair and kept glancing at his phone. Emma’s attention focused on the information sheet that had finally made it’s way up to the back of the room, and she handed Ruby her own copy. It detailed the schedule of the on-air djs and spelled out how the new recruits would be need to seek out a mentor in the coming week.

“Ruby, this better be worth it.”

“Well, we can always blow it off if we get stuck with lame mentors.”

 

* * *

 

Killian was late. His class had run over, then he bumped into a freshman girl on his way across campus - scattering her books everywhere. It would’ve been bad form to leave her to deal with the mess he created.

Regina hated tardiness. But she would just have to deal.

He tried to open the door as quietly as possible. The last thing he wanted to do was draw any more attention to himself; he was already going to get plenty as the music director for the station.

He failed to be stealthy, because as the door closed behind him he noticed every head in the room turn in his direction. So, he tried to act casual as he made his way to a chair behind Regina and sat down quietly.

The glare she shot him said all it needed to. But he wasn't about to explain himself in front of a room full of strangers, so he shrugged as he stretched his legs out in front of him, and silently told her to continue with his brow raised high.

She got the message, because she turned her attention to the mass of people seated in front of her, “This is our Music Director, Killian Jones.”

He nodded his acknowledgement to the group before zoning out as Regina introduced the rest of the stations staff.

He hated these meetings. He only started working at the station his freshman year because he loved the music. He remembered his first meeting and being bloody terrified of the idea of speaking on-air to anyone listening.

But he quickly found an ease in speaking into a microphone and not directly to people’s faces, and had found himself being asked back his sophomore year. Now he was a Junior and had been made the music director at Regina’s insistence. He had balked at her and tried to weasel his way out of it. He wasn't overly fond of being social, and now everyone at the station had to discuss matters with him on a weekly basis.

The meeting dragged on. He tried to speed time up by distracting himself with his phone, but soon ran out of interesting things to do. So, he shoved it back in his pocket and finally decided to take a look at this year’s new crop of recruits.

There was a decent sized group interested this year. He knew from experience more than half of them would never say a word on-air. He furled his nose up in disgust at the amount of hipsters he saw sitting in the crowd. He used to enjoy wearing flannel shirts, they destroyed that for him and he would forever be bitter.

He was ripped from his musings when he saw a flash of bright blonde near the back. All he could see was the cascade of her blonde curls as she leaned over to whisper to the brunette sitting next to her. When she finally faced forward again, he felt the air around him electrify.

_She was bloody magnificent_.

She had high cheekbones and a beautiful little grin that was clearly meant for her friend. He wanted to know her, but knew he would never have the galls to actually approach her.

He could hear Liam in his head, “ _Don’t be a coward, little brother_.”

But the meeting was swiftly over and her and her friend ducked out the back door; leaving Killian to contemplate all the ways he could’ve spoken to her… had he had the nerve.

 

* * *

 

Emma finished up her writing assignment while the college station streamed along on her laptop. The lilting accent of the on-air disc jockey piqued her interest and since she was supposed to find a mentor by the end of the week, she grabbed up the informational flyer and prepared to head to the station.

It was just a short walk from her dorm to the Memorial building that housed most of the student activities offices. The station was listed as being in the basement, so Emma jogged down the stairs and noted the suite numbers as she passed by each room. She passed by the student newspaper and noticed a speaker piping the radio broadcast out into the hallway. The next door on her right was littered with band flyers, show schedules, and a stack of station bumper stickers tucked for anyone to take. It was apparent that this was the right place.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm the butterflies that were taking up residence in her stomach, and pushed her way over the threshold. Music flowed out of a small speaker mounted on the wall. A worn couch lined the wall just inside the door. Posters papered the walls, framing a bank of mailboxes with names labeling each one. Emma crossed the room to another set of doors with a window into the on air studio. Rows of shelves housed records and cds like a maze in the room. She wove her way through the stacks of vinyl, finally spotting the dj slouched in a chair in front of a bank of lights and dials.

Headphones perched on his ears, dark hair sticking up haphazardly, he was intent on twisting a record back to a specific spot. Music blared while he spun to his right to pop open a cd player to place a disc in. He pulled the microphone towards himself while turning a knob that appeared to be lowering the volume of the song currently drawing to a close. He gave a rapid fire rundown of what he’d been playing and read off a card to describe a public service announcement for the local food pantry.

Emma approached slowly, not wanting to interrupt or startle him. The live feed drifted out of a speaker hanging in the corner of the studio. He faced a large window that looked into the next room. It appeared to be another studio and record-filled annex to where they were.

Turning he caught her eye as he hit a button starting the record to his left spinning. He finished introducing the next song and shut off the microphone. His headphones fell back to dangle around his neck, and he spun in the chair to face her.

His striking blue eyes made her catch her breath. It was the music director that had come late to the trainee session. He hadn’t said a word in the meeting, so she was pleasantly surprised that the accented voice she’d been listening to all afternoon belonged to the one person that had caught both her and Ruby’s eye. Killian Jones, that’s who he had been introduced as. Emma schooled her features so as not to appear infatuated or nervous. She took in all the buttons, readouts, cards and cds spread out in front of Killian. She loved music and listening to new bands. The opportunity to have access to the thousands of records at the university radio station was what first piqued her interest. Add to that Ruby egging her on that they’d have a show together and she’d been unable to argue against Ruby’s enthusiasm.

She stuck out her hand and introduced herself.

“Emma Swan, I was at the new members meeting the other night.” He hesitated a moment and then grasped her hand. Emma opened her mouth to ask if she could train with Killian, but he raised his hand to pause her.

“Hold that thought,” he spun back to the board, hands confidently twisting and sliding things around. He turned to carefully lift the needle off the record and flipped the vinyl off the turntable. Emma began to feel pangs of doubt on whether she’d be able to be organized enough to captain what appeared to be a complex task.

“Seems a bit involved. I don’t suppose you’re available as a mentor?” Emma asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her, apparently surprised she had been forward enough to ask. His brow furrowed and Emma worried that he’d say no.

“Well, if you’re going to shadow someone, it’s always good to pick a partner who knows what they’re doing.” He slid the record back into the paper sleeve and placed it onto a shelf behind him. He grabbed a rolling chair and slid it towards her. He patted the seat, “Take a seat, just observe, and I’ll try to impart some wisdom.”

Emma sat and dropped her satchel on the floor next to a milk crate of albums. Killian rubbed the back of his neck and surveyed the board and how much time was left counting down on the cd player to his right. He leaned down and grabbed a record from a small pile leaning near his feet. The turntable was directly in front of Emma and she watched with interest as he placed the vinyl down and gently placed the needle on the small gap at the start of the third song.

“This button here, “ he pointed to a lit square on the board, “when it’s red means it’s ready to listen in queue.” He lifted one side of his headphones to his ear and concentrated while the record started spinning. He let it go till the first note of music sounded, then pulled it back manually a quarter turn and hit a button on the player, stopping the spinning. He glanced over his shoulder at the cd player, the final few notes of the song drifting out as he hit the button and the turntable started back up. “Volume.” he said to Emma while he pulled down a row of sliders and pushed the one for the record player up at the same time, flawlessly blending the end of one song into the beginning of the next.

“Wow.” Emma said, impressed. She noted that the tips of his ears flushed pink at her compliment. He seemed to be the complete opposite of his on-air persona that she’d been enjoying. He seemed almost _shy_. This was not what she’d expected when she’d worked up the nerve to venture over here.

“Some deejays like to fly by the seat of their pants, but I like to be prepared.” He motioned to the pile of cds in front of him. “It’s less stressful if you pick out what you’re going to play before your show.”

“How do you figure out what you’re going to play?” Emma looked over the pile of music curiously. She flipped over the case of a band she wasn’t familiar with. There was a white sticker on the back with comments scrawled and slashes.

He motioned to a rack at the end of one of the rows of record shelves. “That’s the newest music. We try to play a 60/40 split of new music to old.”  

He started up another song as one finished. His hands flew across the board so smoothly, it was a seamless wash of one song to the next. He pushed back from the desk and stood. He motioned to Emma to follow him.

“Let me show you around.”

“You’re not worried about the song ending?” Emma looked back at the board.

“I just put on a nice long Sigur Rós tune. They tend to go on for at least ten minutes. “ He assured her. The music quietly drifting around the room sounded almost ethereal. He made his way over to a stack of technical looking equipment. A row of analog dials with needles bouncing were what he pointed out to her.

“We have to do meter readings every couple of hours.” he explained.

Emma’s eyes were drawn to the thumb ring that glittered while he jotted down the numbers on a clipboard. He explained how to take the meter readings and how to keep a log of what was played on the show. Her mind wandered, distracted by the scruff along his jaw and the way his messy brown hair fell across his forehead.

Emma realized that he’d asked her a question, but had missed it. “Hmm?”

“I asked what your favorite band was.” he repeated.

“It’s hard to pin it down to just one.” She paused, thinking back of all the types of music she enjoyed and what seemed to be played the most on her iPod. “Anything from classic 80’s stuff, rock, pop, I’m pretty open minded.”

“That’s a good outlook to have here,” he noted. “I like to think we’re giving people access to something new, expose them to something that’s not readily available or popular.” He pushed through one door into the next room. Another board was set up with a laptop next to it.

“This is where the news department broadcasts from, and where we record promos.” He waved at a student who was hunched over the computer, headphones firmly in place. He nodded and continued on with whatever project he was working on. Killian leaned towards her and whispered near her ear, “That’s Jeff, he can be a bit intense.”

More rows of records lined the walls in this room as well, apparently the rest of the alphabet. They weaved their way back around to enter the on-air studio from another door.

“How big is this place?” she asked, taking in even more racks of compact discs.

“There are offices in the back through the way you came in,” he explained. “They’re working on digitizing the whole library. But I prefer old school.” He slipped into the chair behind the board again.

The song was running down, and Killian shifted in his seat, pulling the microphone close to his mouth. He confidently explained some background on the Icelandic band he’d played. Throwing in tidbits of information on how they lyrics sounded like a foreign language, but were in fact just an invented language for the listener to interpret however they felt. Emma was impressed with the ease with which he reeled off interesting facts. She didn’t mean to be so hypnotized by his voice, but she suddenly realized he’d left a spot in his spiel for her to comment.

He turned his blue eyes on her and she anxiously saw he’d swung the second microphone towards her. Her stomach fell and an icy stab of fear made her shake her head at him. Killian continued to confidently speak in the mic, running down the rest of the songs he’d played.

Emma felt embarrassed that her first opportunity to speak on-air and she’d frozen up in front of him. She wasn’t sure why she’d gotten so shy when the microphone had been right in her face. He started up the next song and shut off his mic.

“You do realize you’ll have to talk on-air to have a radio show, right?”  he teased.

“I know, but you put me on the spot.” Emma muttered. “You’re such a natural at it, you make it look easy.”

He blushed and awkwardly ran his hand through his hair, turning to fiddle with the pile of CDs. “Well Swan, you were bold enough to come here to shadow me, you shouldn’t be apprehensive to speak on the air.”

 

* * *

 

Killian had been in his own little world, surrounded by stacks of vinyl and CD’s, totally unaware that the beautiful blonde who had haunted his dreams since he saw her at the meeting was about to waltz in and ask him to mentor her.

After the meeting he almost asked Regina to intentionally set him as her mentor, but chickened out every time he had the opportunity.

What was he supposed to say? _“Hey Regina, there was a gorgeous blonde at the meeting. I don’t know her name or anything about her, but can you make me her mentor?”_

Yea, that sounded totally normal.

But then she turned his world upside down by showing up and asking _him_ to mentor _her_ , and after a tiny panic attack he had acted as smoothly as possible when he nonchalantly rolled the chair in her direction and offered to impart his wisdom.

Then she froze on-air, and his heart leapt into his throat. She was beautiful and bold and totally bashful on-air; basically the complete opposite of him.

It had been about a month since that fateful day she walked into his studio. They had worked together on-air a number of times and he finally got her to actually speak.

_“There’s a good girl, Swan,” he said with a huge grin plastered across his face, “See? It’s not so terrifying, is it?”_

_“I basically just squeaked, Jones,” she huffed petulantly, “That was embarrassing.”_

_“But it’s a start,” he encouraged._

She had grown immensely since then, and was actually doing her first show alone that night.

She was incredibly nervous, and he found it endearing. The day of her show she sat with him one last time in the studio and he helped her work out her song selections for the evening.

_“You need a bathroom song, Swan,” he mentioned._

_“A what?” She asked, with her brow raised high._

_“It has to be at least 10 minutes long,” he stated as he shuffled through a stack in front of him, “That way you have plenty of time for a bathroom break.”_

_She stayed silent as he dug through a few piles before finding the one he was looking for. “Ah ha! Here it is,” he said as he pulled a CD up, “Sigur Ros is my go to band.”_

He winked as he handed it to her, and almost started to freak out for how ridiculous his actions were. Then a blush spread across her face and his heartbeat picked up while Liam piped up in his head again, _“See, little brother? Ask her out.”_

He could never get up the nerve to actually ask her out, but he had thought of the next best thing. No one liked the overnight shift, but if someone didnt work 2am-6am the station got shut down. They usually threw the newbs on the shift just to give them experience and keep the station running.

That’s why Emma found herself surrounded by stacks of music in the middle of the night, all alone. It would only be good form to take her something to snack on. So, he stopped at the university’s nearby, late-night diner and grabbed two grilled cheese and onion rings to-go.

He heard the low thrum of music as he entered the dark room and made his way to the studio in the back. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and was humming along and bobbing her head to the music.

She was a vision, the glow of the lights around her reflected off her blonde curls as they swayed back and forth to the rhythm. She had her chin rested in her hand as she clicked away at the screen in front of her. The little furrow in her brow told him she was either in over her head, or concerned she was.

He didn’t want to startle her, so he gently cleared his throat.

She jumped about a foot out of her chair. “ _Jesus christ_ , Jones,” she said as she clutched at her chest, “You scared the shit out of me. This place is creepy this late.”

He chuckled sheepishly and scratched behind his ear, “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just came to see how you were doing and bring you this.”

He thrusted the greasy bag of food out in front of him as he shuffled around nervously. This was very forward for him, and he could hear Liam once again, _“Don't chicken out, little brother. You’ve got this.”_

She cocked her head to the side inquisitively as she looked at the food, “Is that Granny’s?”

“Aye,” he scratched behind his ear again as he continued to shuffle, “I thought you might enjoy a pick-me-up to make it through this bloody awful shift.”

She smiled wide at him, and he felt his whole world tilt on it’s axle. “Granny’s is my favorite. I love her grilled cheese.”

It felt like he was grinning like the Cheshire cat as he said, “Well then, it seems you’re in luck.” He walked towards her and deposited the bag on the table as he pulled out a chair, “Because that’s what I brought.”

“You’re kidding me?” she asked excitedly as she tore into the bag like a 5-year-old. “AND ONION RINGS!” she basically shouted, “How did you know?”

He scratched behind his ear (he’s really got to stop that bloody habit) as he said, “Lucky guess, lass.”

They ate in relative silence, other than the sound of the music through the speakers and the occasional reprieve of Emma going on air to list the song rundown.

“You’ve become a natural, Swan,” he said after he finished his last onion ring and she set up the next song.

“I'm just really trying not to screw up too bad,” she said with a head shake.

“I’ve yet to see you fail, love,” he said seriously as he brushed a tendril of her hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear.

 

* * *

 

Emma showed up for her overnight slot early. She had tried to nap to prepare for the 2am to 6am show, but she’d been too wired to get any rest. Victor was seated behind the board, looking like a mad scientist as he queued up music. Ruby was filing away the discs they’d already played, dutifully returning them alphabetically.

“Are you excited for your first solo show?” Ruby bounced over to her in time to the music blaring in the studio.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Emma fidgeted and dropped her bag near Victor’s feet. She weaved her way among the rows of music, pulling what she and Killian had gone over for a playlist. He’d helpfully jotted down some facts on certain bands so she’d have something clever to say on air.

“Do you want me to sit in with you?” Ruby asked.

“No, I really have to do this on my own. I’d rather not look like an idiot with you for my audience.”

“At least you had a good teacher.” Ruby smirked and patted her on the back. “Have fun tonight.”

Emma smiled to herself. Killian had been an excellent teacher. His unfailing belief that she’d do fine, helped to boost her confidence when speaking on the mic. He’d forced her to read more than her fair share of public service announcements, bumping her out of her comfort zone.

He had such a confident on-air persona, when she’d run into him at the campus bookstore he was the polar opposite. She’d tried to catch his eye, to engage him in conversation, but he’d bashfully said hello, and then made apologies as he backed out of the store as fast as possible.

_“Hey, Jones!” she said enthusiastically. It was strange to see him out of the dark room of the studio._

_“Oh, uh -” he mumbled as he scratched at his ear, “‘Ello there, Swan. I uh -” it was really endearing just how fidgety he was, “Sorry but I actually uh - I must be going. See you around, ya?”_

_“Yea, OK,” she said as he literally ran from the door, “I guess…” after he was long gone._

“Ok, it’s all yours Emma,” Victor pushed back from the board, snapping her from her memory.

Emma slid into the chair and popped a CD into the player to be ready to go when Victor’s last song ended. The butterflies were beating against the inside of her stomach with wild abandon. _“You got this Swan.”_ she could almost hear Killian’s voice reassuring her. With a deep breath she grabbed the nearest pair of headphones and prepared to take the plunge for her first radio show.

Before she knew it, she was already an hour into her show and hadn't even fumbled once. She wondered, vaguely, if Killian was listening in. Or maybe he was fast asleep, like she wished she could be.

It was almost like her thoughts brought him to her, because before she knew it he was standing there (scaring the shit out of her) with a bag of her favorite comfort food in tow.

They ate in relative silence, and it should’ve felt awkward (especially as she broke it to make an on-air announcement); but she just felt comfortable in this small, dark space with him.

She was pondering how his lips would feel if she were to kiss him when he finally spoke up, “You’ve become a natural, Swan.”

She shook her head (attempting to clear her lusty thoughts), “I'm just really trying not to screw up too bad.”

“I’ve yet to see you fail, love,” he said as he brushed some of her hair back and tucked it behind her ear.

She sucked in a breath at the contact, this was the first time he instigated physical contact with her and she could feel the heat travel up her neck and settle onto her cheeks. He had called her love twice tonight, something he had never done before, and she tried to keep her heart reigned in; afraid he would hear it as it pounded wildly in her chest.

“I’ve failed plenty,” she laughed at herself, “Need I remind you of the first time you offered me the mic?”

“Aye, that’s a bit of a tradition to newbs, Swan,” he said as he brushed his thumb on the dimple of her chin. She could feel herself lean into his touch, “We like to put you on the spot. Everyone freezes their first time.”

“Everyone does?” her voice sounded breathy as she leaned into his space, “Even you?”

Her eyes were trained solely on his lips as he said, “Aye, even me.”

She closed the rest of the space between them without a second thought and pressed her lips against his. She heard him suck in a breath, as his thumb paused it’s movement on her chin. He hadn't started kissing her back yet, and she was utterly mortified as she started to pull away.

But he suddenly seemed to snap out of his shock as he surged forward and moved his hand from her chin to bury it deep in her hair. He angled his head to deepen the kiss and she opened her mouth in welcome as her hands snaked around his neck and her fingers sifted through the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

He groaned as she pressed herself as close to him as their chairs would allow. She was moments away from saying “fuck it” and crawling into his lap when the sound of a skipping record jolted them apart.

 

* * *

 

Killian couldn’t believe his luck.

She kissed him - she had actually kissed _him_ \- and bloody hell he could get lost in the feeling of her lips pressed against his. In fact, he did; he hadn’t even thought about the song queue for the radio until the record skipped and brought reality crashing down on them.

He leaned back reluctantly and gestured at the board for her to handle the situation like he’d taught her. She smoothly lowered the volume on the skipping record and brought up the next queued song.

“Good form, Swan. You’re handling the board like a pro.” He smiled proudly at her and then before he could lose his nerve leaned back in to capture her gaze with his own.

He could hear Liam encouraging him once more, _“Even you can’t muck this up, little brother.”_

“I’d like to take you out to celebrate.” He toyed with the end of her hair, biting his lip while he waited for her to answer.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask.” She leaned in and brushed her nose against his. “Breakfast seems like the most appropriate date since I’ve been up all night.”

“Aye, I can’t argue that logic, love,” he said as he leaned in for another kiss.

 


End file.
